


Old Loki

by Weaselwoman



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark, Gen, Rude language and gestures, mature themes, very dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weaselwoman/pseuds/Weaselwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Notes: Writer Amalia Dillon has presented an excellent analysis of the relationship between Thor and Loki in Norse myth as the relationship between an adventurous boy and his “cool uncle” (see http://blog.amaliadillin.com/2012/02/thor-and-loki-no-footnotes-just-gut.html).  Recently, I thought about the change in behavior Loki showed during the circumstances of Balder’s death, and about friends who have watched beloved older relatives descend into senility and Alzheimer’s disease. Very similar, no?  Hence this story.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Old Loki

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Writer Amalia Dillon has presented an excellent analysis of the relationship between Thor and Loki in Norse myth as the relationship between an adventurous boy and his “cool uncle” (see http://blog.amaliadillin.com/2012/02/thor-and-loki-no-footnotes-just-gut.html). Recently, I thought about the change in behavior Loki showed during the circumstances of Balder’s death, and about friends who have watched beloved older relatives descend into senility and Alzheimer’s disease. Very similar, no? Hence this story.

“Show us your tits, girl!”

The candy-striped nurses’ aid blushed, fled from the old man sprawled in his chair.

He muttered, “I had better ones, myself…. remember those days?” to freshman Thor, here with his mother for a visit while on school holiday.

“Yes, Uncle.”

“And Tyr tried to grope me!  Didn’t _he_ get a surprise. Like this…” while trying to pull his penis outside the stained pajama pants, the gaping robe…

“We’ve seen that already,” said Frigga, ageless, bored; and wrinkled her nose at the sour smell.

“Well, it was a good joke.” And the wide grin; then quick glances from the corners of his eyes: “Is Skadi here?”

“ _No_ , Uncle.” From trembling Thor.

“She put me in this snake pit.” Softly: “Damn her.” Louder: “Is Sigyn?” (his favorite nurse)

“It’s her day off, Uncle.”

“Damn, again. Where’s your father, then? We used to go everywhere together.”

“He couldn’t make it,” Thor lied, uneasily.

“We swore an oath! We drank together!  Then he left me for...”—two blinks – “… family. Why are you here? Who are you, anyway? And where are my children? Where’s Slip? Where’s Jorm?  Where’s Fen? And where…” – a pause, as he started laughing to himself – “where the hell…” – laughing louder – “where the hell is Hel?”

Slip was with Odin, intentionally elsewhere; Jorm joined the Navy to get away; Fen was still in prison, for assault and mayhem; and Hel? She tried to kill herself, failed, and, with permanent brain damage, now resided in the women’s ward on a lower floor of the hospital.

Loki’s loyal nephew, looking at the old man, remembered a keen mind that knew every bird from its song; a quick tongue that once persuades a mugger attacking them both to drop his weapon (and Thor still kept the crowbar in the family tool shed); an appreciator of fresh fruit, beautiful women, practical jokes (the more ingenious the better), and the lowest of puns. And tried not to let the sight before him sink in.

“Hey, boy. Don’t frown. Hey. Smile.” Claw-like hands reached out to tickle. “Are you one of mine?”

Frigga turned purple in the background, started to turn away.

“Come on,” she said.

“But…” a claw still held Thor’s hand.

“Let’s go, Thor.”

A male attendant stepped up, loosened the hand from his wrist, and whispered something to the old man. Frigga left in a huff, Thor tagging along behind.

 

“You are so wonderful,” the receptionist said, “to visit your brother every week, even though he doesn’t recognize you.”

As she walked away, Frigga reached into her purse for her keys, and spoke quietly to her son. “He’s not my brother. He isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’t...”

Thor sat silent in the back seat as they drove home.


End file.
